Circa
by VioletLolitaPop
Summary: It starts as an adventure into the attic, and then for some reason or another, the clothing they come across somehow become a continuous staple throughout their lives. .:Human!AU:Fem!America:More Warnings Inside:.


**xxx**

Title: Circa  
Rating: T for Too much fluff and drama and teenage hormoness and so much fluff homg you don't even know and some swears and stripping.  
Pairings/Characters: thoughttobeonesided!Russia/fem!America, thoughttobeonesided!fem!America/Russia, England/fem!America, onesidedrelationship!Belarus/Russia, Prussia/fem!America, and then finally Russia/fem!America. Jeez...  
Notes/Warnings: Whaa? Everything above wasn't enough of a warning? Hawt dayum. Well, fem!America because reasons at the end. Multi-pairing because reasons. Fluff because I'm sappy. :3 America is called Amanda because reasons at the end. OOCness? Most likely. I's saweee~.

**xxx**

**When Amanda is six**, dressed in her great-grandmother's wedding gown and veil, Ivan is there, costumed up in her great-grandfather's own wedding day ensemble while looking at himself in a full length mirror, appearing even smaller in the larger sized clothing.

"I don't think this is the kinda clothes you wear to a tea party," he says and flops his arms about in the too-long sleeves.

At the moment, the two children are playing amongst the worn crates and chests kept tucked away in the confines of Amanda's attic. They've spent the better part of their afternoon together rummaging through them all in search of clothes to play dress up and at Amanda's own insistence, to have a tea party.

"But I like this one the best," she says in the amber glow of sunlight streaming in through the single dust covered window.

Her tiny frame is lost in the sea of fragile lace that's begun to yellow at its ends from disuse and the low-hemmed beaded bodice covered in pearls and tiny diamonds splayed sporadically across, and her blonde hair is encased completely in a single sheet off tulle tufting forth from the customized circlet that is the base of the veil. Ivan watches as she tries to twirls herself around in the gown, failing almost utterly by tripping over lengths of fabric and over her own feet that are as well entangled. He can't help the small bubble of a laugh that emerges because of her falling over in a soft thump of cloth against the wood flooring, and for his action, he's given a huff and a glare.

Amanda quickly rights herself into a sitting position, and after she pushes the veil away from her face and rearranges it once more, crosses her arms and raises her chin stiffly.

"Shut up," she says. "You're gonna fall as soon as you move too!"

"Nuh uh, 'cause I folded the pants up like this." He lifts up his leg and shows her exactly how he has pushed back the pant leg and just how many folds he's had to make until the small soles of his shoes are visible.

Amanda gently stands up again and gather her skirts up until they bunch around her thighs and show off her blue jeans. She picks her way through the assortment of dresses and coats and skirts and trousers and hats and shoes they've gone through so painstakingly in order to find the perfect costume until she reaches Ivan's side and takes a closer look at his pants. She hums to herself as she goes about her inspection and it isn't until she drops the hold on her gown and lace cascades back to the grown while she folds her arms across her chest does she actually speak.

"Okay, yeah, so I guess you won't fall when you walk. But that doesn't mean you should laugh at me when I do."

"You wouldn't fall if you would choose something else to put on." Ivan bends over to pick up an ankle length day dress, pale green and covered in white calla lilies, and holds it up high. "Stuff like this is easy to wear."

Amanda looks uncertain. She swishes a bit, rustling the gown and looking contemplative, undecided whether or not to exchange the wedding gown for something more simple.

"I like the _old_ old looking stuff better," she tells him. "Like this dress."

Ivan only gestures to the mounds of clothes surrounding them. "I think we can find something else you can like."

Amanda sighs and in a single move, pulls the veil from her head. "Yeah, okay, I guess. I really don't wanna fall again." Before she sheds the gown so that she may move about in her normal clothes once more, she turns in the direction of the full length mirror Ivan's been standing in front of the entire time. She smiles and even laughs, all while nodding her head. "I think you're right. We don't look like we're gonna have a tea party."

"I told you," he says and looks back into the mirror beside her. "We look like we're gonna get married." A sudden thought hits him, and he sort of laughs as he faces Amanda again. "Hey, if you really do wanna wear the dress, we can play getting married instead."

This instantly causes Amanda to start laughing, beginning as a sort of shriek and ends with high-pitched giggles. "Don't say that, that's so weird!" She gathers up the bottom of the dress once more and begins to lift if up over herself. Once she has everything off and is tugging the hem of her t-shirt back down, she gives a sort of half-laugh and asks Ivan, "Do you wanna play getting married? Like really?"

"No, not really," he quickly denies. "I just thought, 'cause of the dress."

"Nah, I'm just gonna put something else on." She starts to laugh again. "Can you imagine us getting married for real?"

Honestly, he hasn't really thought about it before, but as she brings the subject up then yes, he supposes he can imagine the two of them actually getting married and not minding it in the slightest. The idea brings a blush to his cheeks and he ducks his head while stripping off the vintage clothing to better hide the red coloring his face. He actually doesn't think he would mind, he recognizes, but that's just the thing, isn't it?

It's a sort of sad realization for him, at such a young age, that while the concept of marrying his best friend is somehow favorable to him, apparently by her word it is not so for her. So with that thought now looming in his mind, he squashes the idea, along with a sort of tight clinch in his chest, and buries it deep within himself.

**When Amanda is 10**, wearing her grandfather's old and worn WWII bomber jacket, Ivan is there, watching as she participates in a yelling match with a pair of girls on the playground during their recess that looks like it will soon become a physical fight.

They are a redhead and a brunette, who for no apparent reason, has interrupted their handball game by making snide comments on Amanda's chosen attire. Since being allowed to finally dress herself some years back already, Amanda has collected items from the attic, being drawn to them for whatever reason and those she was given permission to take had been male clothing for the majority. This and her insistence on keeping her hair short has her mother call it the tomboy phase, Ivan just thinks it's because they're all easier to wear and Amanda's kind of lazy like that.

In any case, her ensemble for the day consists of re-tailored slacks and a button up shirt, her own pair of suspenders attached for more show than practicality and aforementioned jacket, and it is apparently a rational reason for being bullied.

"Nobody even believes you're a girl!" shouts the brunette. "You're too ugly to be one!"

"You don't even have long hair like a girl!" the redhead inputs.

"You're both stupid if you think you have to have long hair to be a girl!" Amanda shouts back. "Tell 'em, Ivan, tell 'em how stupid they are."

Before Ivan can even lament over the bad luck he has in being drawn into such a petty argument, the other girls start shouting instructions out to him. They both demand that he tell Amanda just how ugly she is, how stupid her clothes are, how badly she wants to be a boy, and how no one believes in her being a girl anyway. While all of them upset him, he waits until the last one, until their both quite through with showing off their arrogance and closed-minds, does he bother to give them his attention.

"I know she's a girl," he says evenly. "And I know she's prettier than both of you, and that's a fact."

The offense plastered on their faces is the single cause for Amanda's howl of laughter. Both sputter and attempt to regain control of the situation, but Amanda's lack of being able to take any more of it seriously and only continues to lave leaves them to take the only option of crying out their last bit of lackluster insults in indignation before storming off arm in arm. When realizing this, she blows a raspberry in their direction and sends them a quick wave goodbye.

"Good riddance!" she praises. "I thought I was gonna have to beat them up or something if they didn't stop."

"I know," Ivan agrees. "I could tell."

Just happy in having all of that done and taken care of, Ivan picks their ball up from where it had skidded to a halt when their game had been intruded on, thinking that they could now finally pick up where they had stopped. He turns to ask Amanda who the last one to serve was, when he notices her staring intently at him, her cheeks now a suddenly healthy shade of pink.

"What?" he asks, he honestly does not know.

Amanda hesitates, but when she does, she seems offly quite serious when asking, "Didja mean it? The whole me being prettier than both of them?"

Ivan fights down a blush of his own, it threatens to rise up the second he recalls that he had said such a thing to them and actually meant it. "Yeah? Well, um, you are, so...?"

She shifts on her feet and crosses her arms, looking a little unlike herself but she gives him a small and very happy smile as she says, "Thank you."

"Yeah, well," he says nonchalantly, assuming that she is thanking him for the obvious reason,and bounces the ball in hand. "Sure. That's what best friends are for and all that."

He doesn't see her smile tighten, nor the way her shoulders fall and her eyes dim. Her arms uncross and return to their positions at her sides while she says, "Best friends, yeah... Hey! It's my turn to serve!"

**When Amanda is 14**, wearing a white collared blouse and high waisted trousers, suspenders in place like always as she traipses around the classroom handing back the graded assignments from the day before as requested by their teacher, Ivan is there, watching her from his seat at the back of the room and noting that while her dress may be considered conservative, it's extremely flattering to her developing form.

She's been experimenting with her femininity, slowly transitioning her wardrobe from the men's clothing in the attic to the women's, particularly those circa 1930 or 1940'ish. She's grown her hair out longer - though only by a few inches, still preferring to keep it above her shoulders - and has even bought a tube of red lipstick she wears some days.

Today happens to be one of those days, and Ivan would be lying if he says that he doesn't find it a bit distracting. The red is a shade dark enough to be complimentary to her tanned skin and is not overly glossy like so many others. It's the only bit of cosmetics she bothers in putting on in the morning, and yet it's enough to highlight the natural line and color of her eye. She stops for a moment by Elizaveta's desk and the two strike up a small conversation.

His gaze focuses on the movement of her lips, the small stretches and carefull round shape it takes in forming words, more noticeable because of their colored state, and it catches his attention so much to the point that he almost misses the glance she gives him when finally ready to continue in her task and the wave she shoots at him. It startles him out of his reverie, which is so obvious even to Amanda that he can hear her laugh from across the room and can't help the eye twitch he has at the sight of her winking and blowing him a playful kiss.

Ivan goes for the response that is automatic at this point and flashes her his middle finger, only to receive an even louder fit of laughter in return.

Amanda says something else to Elizaveta and then continues on her way, flipping through the pages while working through the maze of desks to hand them back to those they are labeled. Ivan relaxes back into his seat and his focus is directed at the worksheet they're meant to complete in silence for only a few moments before his eyes drift back to watch Amanda. She's near the end of her pile, only three or so more students left, and then she reaches Arthur.

The blond British boy turns a shade of red that Ivan has never seen on his face before the closer Amanda approaches his desk. He sees the way her eyebrow raises just slightly enough to be noticeable, but she places his assignment down in front of him with so much as a word in question. Then suddenly, his hand shoots out from his jacket pocket, a folded piece of notebook paper clenched into his fist and yet sticking out just enough so it's apparent that whatever it may be is for Amanda. Even as Amanda reaches out for it and even plucks it from his hand, Arthur makes no eye contact. His gaze remains fixated on his lap until she turns from him and walks away, and even then it's only for a second before he grabs at his pen and pretends to concentrate on his class work.

Amanda slides the note into her pocket and finishes the remainder of her task quickly, now adamant in returning to her desk. When she does complete it, she trots to the empty seat next to Ivan's and slides in easily enough. She doesn't bother in showing him what it is she's received, opting instead to flatten out the sheet of paper and reads it in a rush. Not that it takes long to do so or anything of the sort, the written content takes no more than two lines and is hastily scribbled as far as Ivan can tell, and yet all the same, whatever it is has Amanda faintly turn pink and her lips stretch out into a humored grin.

Feigning a bit of nonchalance, Ivan leans towards her by only a fraction. Though her expression causes a knot to form at the bottom of his stomach, he's able to ask, "What is it?"

She smiles a little more and folds the note up again carefully. "He said I have moxie. And I'm not gonna lie, if it wasn't for Captain America comics, I wouldn't even know what that meant, but I do, and that is just... the living end? Is that right? I think that's the right way to use it..."

Ivan doesn't know how to respond, luckily enough (or unluckily enough, depending on the viewpoint) Amanda herself doesn't seem to require one. She stares at the back of Arthur's head until he finally feels the eyes on him and turns his head back, still rather red though not as much as before. Amanda instantly throws him a wink, less playful than the one given to Ivan and the kiss blown in his direction is more laviscious.

He begins to feel nauseous almost, and he's already certain why that is, as Arthur's eyebrows rise (and here, a petty side of him makes a snide comment on just how much of an accomplishment that is considering how much they must weigh) and there's the shadow of a smug grin before he faces forwards again.

Amanda laughs a little and falls back into her seat. She looks over at Ivan and in an almost serious sounding tone asks him, "Should I go for it?"

Ivan forces a smile and gives a shrug, not really trusting himself in this moment to speak. Though why that is, he has no idea. He knew very well that this would be an eventuality, and yet here he is, slumping miserably behind his desk while pointingly ignoring the way his still-just-best-friend picks a pen up and begins to write back a response.

**When Amanda is 16**, wearing a strapless dark blue tea-length gown and matching heels, she's slumped on the red-carpeted staircase of a high rated hotel against Ivan who is sitting there right next to her, crying into the breast of his black tuxedo jacket, quieter than any of the other girls that find themselves in the same predicament, but crying all the same.

When she finally pulls away from him, her eyes are bloodshot and her nose is shiny. She says nothing as she swipes at her face with the palm of her hand, doing her very utmost to rid the evidence of there being any tears running down her cheeks.

"I'm sorry," she sniffles. "I'm totally taking you hostage and you should be inside there with Natalia."

As true as that may be, and though he can feel holes being drilled into his head by Natalia herself at the top of the staircase (Most likely looking more than just annoyed with either her arms crossed or hanging down by her sides with her hands balled into fists, Ivan isn't sure and he's not exactly willing to turn his head to check.), he isn't certain if he can restrain himself from pulling a full front assault on Arthur for being the cause of Amanda's somber state.

"No, really," she continues. "Just 'cause my now-totally-ex-boyfriend threw me under the bus doesn't mean you should do the same to your girl."

"She understands." Here Ivan does chance a look in Natalia's direction, and the sight of her having a blank expression and no tell-all body language is somehow more frightening than if she were to exactly show how she feels. He snaps his head forward and tries to shrug off what he's just seen by saying, "Besides, I don't think I can keep from punching Arthur's stupid face in."

He gets a small laugh out of her, which in turn has him smile at her seemingly lifted up spirits, however slight. Even so, Amanda sighs and hunches forward, elbows on knees and head in hands. She starts to pull out the bobby pins keeping her hair in victory rolls and says, "I knew it was gonna happen anyway, just didn't think it'd be tonight, but then again it's always been my luck, huh? This sucks..."

"What do you mean, you knew it was going to happen?"

"Just that." She shakes a hand through her hair, tussling it free of any form so that it hangs in loose waves instead of tight ringlets. "I mean, I can try to look it or whatever, but Franny's always been classier than me or some shit and Arthur's been using her as an example for me to follow for a pretty long while now, so I figured, you know? Eventually..."

Ivan quells the sudden urge to storm into the place and punch Arthur not only being completely insensitive, but for being an idiot as well. He may not enact upon it now, but some time in the near future, his fist will meet the other male's face.

"Just leave it," she says, already knowing what that expression he wears means. "This ship was already sinking, but I didn't think it was still gonna sting like this."

"They say the first love is like that."

"Nah, that's not why. I think it's because you put in so much time with someone and nothing happens, so it's like... Okay, maybe it is like the first love."

At her pathetic little chuckle, Ivan leans forward as well in his sitting position to be more on level with her. Her eyes are starting to clear, but her eye-makeup has blurred and her powder is streaked and her lipstick is smudged at the places where it rubbed against his jacket. Despite her appearance, theres something different about her. There's an slight aura of resignation over the situation, but at the same time there's a great floating sigh of relief. Amanda will be alright, Ivan knows, still...

"Want to key his car?"

"Oh, God, yes!"

She hops up all while going on a short rant about certain types of men leaving their significant others out in the cold for other women during highly attended societal events as she regains a bit more of her fighting spirit again. She starts to descend the rest of the staircase and Ivan stands as well. He takes his time and checks once more for Natalia, only to see that she is no longer standing where he left her. Again, he isn't sure how to read the action, so instead he sends a quick text to her, asking where she went off to and to please, meet them in the parking lot, he'll explain everything.

Ivan pockets his phone, and follows after Amanda, wondering if their Junior Prom is any inclination to how their Senior one would be next year.

**When Amanda is 18**, wearing nothing more than a red sequined bustier, black panties, thigh-high fishnet stocking, and a blue jewel encrusted garter belt, Ivan is there, sitting in the crowd dressed in his sister's borrowed slip, clip-on pearl earrings, and half-moon sunglasses. The theater is warm enough for the flimsy bit of material covering him to be perfectly acceptable (even in all it's transparent glory), and his only complaint is having to hold onto the black and red feather boa Amanda has thrown at him from the stage.

Honestly though, he has a bit more to complain for, but isn't sure whether or not they are valid.

The title credits fade on to the screen behind her, reading _The Rocky Horror Picture Show_ in thick, bleeding red letters, and Amanda (boa'less now) kicks off her shoes and sways her hips. It's the beginning to the rest of her strip tease, and it's an event that causes Ivan to have an inner confliction over the fact that she is his best friend and the one girl he truly does adore still even to this day and whether or not it is appropriate for him to be viewing her in such a manner every Saturday.

Amongst the typical shouts and insults thrown at the screen from the other members of the audience, there are cat calls from most of the males as Amanda begins to undo the lacings of her bustier. Ivan sinks in his seat, willing his body (as he does every weekend) to keep calm and not expose his feelings, both figuratively and literally.

It's a constant barrage of self-remainders that this is not a display for himself specifically, it's part of an act of a greater performance and nothing more than that.

He's able to watch and even participate in some of the jeers through the shedding of the bustier, revealing the strapless, black bra underneath, and the pair of panties she wears over a smaller pair that covers the bare minimum. She bends to unbuckle her garter belt, leisurely taking her time in unsnapping the clips holding up her tights before reaching behind her to unclasp the hold it has around her waist. Her stocking are the next to go, one leg up in the air as both her hands lay flat against her thigh and push the nylon away from her skin. She repeats the action with her other leg, and already at the end of the opening credits does she move for the clasps of her bra, and finally turning her back to the crowd, unsnaps it entirely as the last note plays out, lost in a sea of howls from the men and women enjoying the show thus far and spraying cans of silly string all over themselves, and holds it high into the air.

She turns back to them, one arm covering her chest and takes a bow, a very large smile on her face and collects her clothing in a hurry before scurrying off the stage for the other actors to take over. Ivan shakes his head a little, half-amused at the idea of him being unable to desensitize himself from the act by now and waits patiently for Amanda to redress and join him in the audience for the rest of the show.

It doesn't take much longer, and by the time Amanda is dressed back in her costume and slides into her seat next to him, they've reached the second part of the show. She plucks her feather boa from his lap and asks, "So? How'd I do?"

"Very nice," he replies in a monotone, knowing full-well that she will feign offense at his indifference. "A brilliant display of decadence just as the week before."

"Sarcastic ass," she calls and swipes at his arm. "Hey, I thought you were gonna bring Natalia this time?"

Ivan averts his eyes and makes a thoughtful sound. In truth, he had wanted to do so, a sort of last ditch effort in making their relationship a little more solid and less one-sided, thinking maybe if he includes her in more of his activities, things between them can be something akin to an actual relationship. The conversation proceeding his invitation included more than a few accusations and choice insults directed at Amanda followed by a door slamming and Ivan wondering just what it was that had occurred.

The whole scenario left Ivan to think that maybe it's best to end things, that it never should have seeped into their lives after school.

"She was busy," he says in the end. "Maybe next time."

Amanda only hums in lieu of a reply and watches the stage. Then suddenly, almost quite randomly, she says, "Gilbert asked me out, y'know."

"What?"

"Yeah. But I can't tell if it's 'cause he likes me or just the way I take off my clothes."

There are many things Ivan can say to that, but he only remains silent, and in a few minutes time he's able to bear witness to Gilbert on stage dressed as Riff Raff catch Amanda's eye and throw her a wink and a quick grin before getting back into character. Amanda smiles in return and tosses her hair back, and all Ivan hopes for at this point is that this doesn't end as the whole fiasco with Arthur did.

**When Amanda is 23**, wearing a blue and white polka dot skirt that falls down to right above her knees in a series of pleats and a cream colored waistshirt that has the barest hint of shoulder pads, Ivan is there, dressed as casually as one can be when around the blonde and watching as she looks out at the scenery from the height they're located.

While Amanda's and Gilbert's relationship has gone from hot to old, on and off, again and again in the past years, Amanda has kept up a semi-friendship with his younger brother Ludwig, and in turn has become great friends with _his_ friends Feliciano and Kiku.

Currently, Feliciano is in the midst of hosting a party on the rooftop of his apartment complex, one that Amanda has been given an invitation and in turn brought Ivan along with her. The two of them lean against the waist high wall surrounding the area on the far side, some way away from everyone else and are still together in the quiet between the time of the afternoon ending and dusk beginning to set over the city skyline. So content are they, that it isn't until a visible shudder Amanda is unable to repress from the cold racks through her body and has Ivan voice out in concern.

"Are you cold?" he asks.

She shrugs in a bit of indifference, but does reply in agreement. "A little, but it's not too bad."

"You're only saying that because you didn't bring a jacket."

"The cat took a shit on my coat, couldn't bring it anyway."

"What, again? I honestly think your cat hates you."

"Tony loves me, he's just an asshole."

"Or all cats are just dicks," he says as a final say all to the conversation and begins to shed his long coat. Through Amanda's protests to stop doing as such, he slides it off from his arms and drops it down over her shoulders easily enough, and she warmed in an instant. "Shame on Gilbert for letting you go cold."

"What are you talking about?" she asks and slips her arms into the coat entirely.

"I heard from Ludwig that he went by your place to get back together again."

Amanda snorts and waves the idea off. "He did, but... Well, they say third time's the charm, but we'd be hitting eight, and yeah, this thing just needs to die already."

Ivan gives a hurried glance in Gilbert's direction, only to met with a glare as the other chugs down another beer. "That explains the death glare then. Probably thinks I'm hitting on you or something of the sort."

"Nah, that's not it," Amanda quickly corrects and picks up her drink from the ledge. "He's always hated you."

The surprise of the news is so evident on Ivan's face that Amanda has to laugh a tad bit too outrageously and calls the attention of some of those closer to the pair before she bothers to explain.

"Yeah, I know, but our first major fight was about you." Her next words are almost muffled with the low tone she uses combined with the opportunity used to drink from her cup. "He said I wanted to be with you more than him."

There a twinge in Ivan's chest, the same bubble of hope that creeps up on him every now and then whenever something of the sort is mentioned to or even simply within the same vicinity of him. He squashes it down to best of his abilities and even then, he's barely able to mutter out a response of how ridiculous is the notion.

"There was another reason for turning him down last night though," Amanda continues. "When he asked me, I didn't want to say yes, and all I could think about was doing the same thing again and again without even trying to make a go at who I do want to be with. Like as in a relationship."

She pivots to face Ivan directly, and in a more serious manner than he's ever seen her before, she says to him, "Ivan, you're my best friend, yeah?"

His answer is instantaneous. "Yes Of course."

"And you'll forgive me if I ever did something stupid but really didn't want to ruin anything, yeah?"

"Amanda, what-?"

"An answer, please?"

Ivan's mouth turns downwards in a slight frown, but he does comply all the same. "I've forgiven you for some pretty stupid things before, like the horseradish cake you launched at my boss-"

"He totally knew that was an accident too though."

"-and the time you ruined my gas tank by thinking that lighter fluid was the same as petrol, so yes, I'm sure I can."

Amanda bites her lip and has the decency to look apologetic still for the misconstruction. "That was... Okay, yeah. Anyway, I want you to know that I love being your friend, I always have, and I still want to be, so..."

She straightens her posture, and Ivan's eyes widen at the sight of Amanda leaning in closer to him and lifts herself onto the tip of her toes as her eyes slip close and she presses her lips to his.

They're just as pliant as he has imagined many times before, and he's grateful to her on forgoing any form of cosmetic for her lips, he's able to define their texture better that way. Ivan takes advantage, wraps his arms around her waist and brings her entire body to press up against his own even closer. Amanda smiles into their kiss, and he tilts her head back with little effort and deepens their kiss, the both of them paying little attention to those surrounding them and noticing their actions, the cat calls and whistles from them in an attempt to disrupt their moment. Despite their audience, when Ivan pulls back and Amanda smiles at him in her own way as she brings her arms up to wrap around his neck, there is nothing that is able to ruin this moment for them.

"I fucking knew it!"

Although the scene Gilbert causes next does come close.

**When Amanda is 26**, wearing a wedding gown fashioned in the same exact manner as her great-grandmother's, Ivan is there, dressed in an ensemble almost similar to the suit he wore so many years ago one afternoon in a dusty attic, standing at the end of an aisle cutting through rows of pews decorated with almond colored sashes and yellow sunflowers, filled with their family and friends, and watches Amanda approach him in a timely fashion from the opposite side of the chapel.

There are cameras flashing from the within the pews, and many smiles, and yet Ivan is only focused on watching the smile on his wife-to-be's face and the feeling he gets when doing so gladly. As the others who walk down the aisle before her take their designated places, Amanda takes hers by Ivan's side, and though his thoughts should be the numerous future endeavors they will soon partake, his mind wanders back to their childhood, back to the attic, and he doesn't bother to fight the smile that blooms when a certain memory makes to the front of his mind.

"Finally not tripping over it, I see," he teases and waits for her to understand.

She gives him a queer little look, narrowing her eyes in search of the reference and when it finally dawns on her, she takes a slight step back as though offended, which then melts in a small smirk that matches the laughter in her eyes. "Well, guess you really did want to play getting married, huh?"

She remembers as well, and he isn't able to contain himself. The scolding he receives for giving her a kiss before the ceremony even begins is well worth it, in his opinion.

**xxx**

Disclaimer: Bei mir bist du shoen means that you're grand.

-I meant to do something else completely when I sat down to type and this came out instead.

-You know those sticker books that are like paper dolls? Where there's usually a girl at the very back of the book, and you can dress her up with the four or five pages of sticker clothes they give you? (If you don't, you're missing out, the end.)

-But yeah, blaming those...

-Even for the name I gave America. Because the doll's name was Amanda, and I've just really liked the name since I first started crushing on Amanda Palmer. Idk...


End file.
